


pretty little picture

by inquisitor_tohru



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Dinner Parties, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Married Couple, Minor Finn/Rey (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28671327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inquisitor_tohru/pseuds/inquisitor_tohru
Summary: "Youdorealise dinner parties aren't a competition, right?"Anything could be a competition if you tried hard enough, and only losers (or people who wereunnecessarilyconcerned with sparing their husband's feelings) thought otherwise.
Relationships: Poe Dameron/Armitage Hux
Comments: 8
Kudos: 13
Collections: Hoelidays Gift Exchange 2021





	pretty little picture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [trite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/trite/gifts).



"You _do_ realise dinner parties aren't a competition, right?" Hux watched Poe take a bite out of his own homemade blumfruit muffin, and rolled his eyes. Anything could be a competition if you tried hard enough, and only losers (or people who were _unnecessarily_ concerned with sparing their husband's feelings) thought otherwise.

"Of course I realise that. I just want everything to go smoothly."

"You _hate_ cooking." Poe had him there. But then, that's what caterers were for, and while everyone else had been busy merrymaking at Finn and Rey's engagement party, Hux had snapped up the contact details from an up-and-coming chef from Corellia.

"It's growing on me. I've been watching cookery vids on the holonet." That was a lie, obviously. If there was anything he'd enjoy less than cooking, it was watching other people cook. At least, unless it was Poe, which could be said for a lot of things nowadays.

"Uh-huh." Poe gave him a knowing smile as he leaned back into the sleek, black and white couch. It was difficult, but Hux tried to ignore the fresh crumbs peppering the space between the cushions. He might be a lousy cook, and he might have scorched a couple of shirts the last time he attempted to do the ironing, but if there was one thing that Hux excelled at, it was making sure that their Coruscant apartment was absolutely immaculate. Nobody could say otherwise and, in any case, they wouldn't _dare._

(Again, unless they were Poe, in which case they were probably the one responsible for standards slipping. But even he understood and appreciated the importance of keeping things clean, tidy, and organised.)

"Those honeycrust buns the Wexleys brought over," Hux said, taking the opportunity to straighten Poe's collar as he sat down beside him, "did you know Karé baked them _herself?"_

"She enjoys baking now and then." Poe shrugged, wolfing down the last mouthful of his muffin. "It's not a big deal. She just made too many."

"Even for Temmin?"

 _"Hux._ Be nice."

"All I'm saying is that he has a big appetite. It's not a _bad_ thing. Really, I'm glad that he's up and about again." Hux wasn't particularly close to many of Poe's friends, but at least with Temmin he had an excuse - it wasn't easy for _anyone_ to get to know a man in a coma. "I'll _be_ nice."

But if Karé brought any more of her home baked goods along, he _would_ destroy her.

  
  


The crockery was spotless, the cutlery was polished to perfection, and the table runner was just so. That, at least, was Hux's own work, and even _he_ could manage to arrange the canapés in such a way that they looked appealing before leaving the kitchen. He knew the value of appearances, after all. It didn't matter how delicious any combinations of ingredients might be if nobody wanted to taste them. Much as it didn't matter how skilled, intelligent, or qualified a person was if nobody _wanted_ what they were offering.

"See," Poe said, gently nudging him with his elbow as he prepared to tuck into the main course - rich, red wine-soaked mushrooms and soypro, encased in puff pastry. The chef seemed to _really_ have a thing for pastry, though Hux had to admit that their roasted kajaka root starters had gone down a treat. "Everyone's enjoying themselves." He let himself relax a little as he glanced around to see Finn and Rey chatting with Kaydel and Beaumont. At the other end of the table, Temmin laughed as he fed Karé a mouthful of food from his own fork in what had to be one of the most gratuitous public displays of affection that Hux had been privy to in quite some time.

"Perhaps a little too much," he said, causing Poe to snort into his wine glass.

"Don't be jealous, Hugs. You know I'd share with you if you asked." He couldn't help but smile at that, finding his husband's hand beneath the table and squeezing.

"Keep your food. You've shared your life with me. That's more than enough."

"And _you,"_ Poe said, gesturing towards Hux's empty glass, "have had more than enough to drink if you're already saying things like that when we have company." That was probably true. Wine did frequently make him rather loose-lipped, and his tolerance was low.

On the other hand, it stopped him fretting quite so much about dessert...or his hosting skills.

But mainly dessert.

  
  


Hux paced back and forth in front of the kitchen door.

"Babe, relax." Poe's silk scarf might have been exquisitely fashionable...but it was also asymmetrical, because _of course_ it was.

"How can I be expected to _relax_ when the Corellian Ryshcate isn't ready?" Hux reached out to straighten the crooked scarf, which only soothed his frazzled nerves a little. He had not spent his life adhering to strict military timings and deadlines only to be undone by a subpar pastry chef and a few whiskey-soaked nuts wrapped up in layers of pastry.

"Everyone's still working their way through the main course. Well, except Rey, but you've _seen_ how she eats." Unfortunately, he had. "Look, I know you wanted to do this on your own, but I'm happy to help if-" Hux swiftly side-stepped to block the kitchen door.

"Do _not_ go in there."

"You know...it really is impressive that you managed to cook all this yourself. The starter alone takes three hours to prepare."

"Yes, well, I'm very organised."

"You didn't set foot in the kitchen until _two and a half_ hours ago." Poe triumphantly tugged his scarf back to its previous irritatingly jaunty angle.

"Have you considered that perhaps it takes other people three hours because they're _wasting time?"_ It was a weak line of defense and Hux knew it. Regardless of how many times he'd claimed otherwise during their early days of working together, Poe wasn't an idiot. Maybe it _would_ be more gracious to admit defeat. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed slowly, as his therapy droid so often reminded him to, and turned the doorknob.

"I _knew_ it!" He didn't ask why Hux hadn't told him, because he knew that, too. It was a work in progress. (His therapy droid liked to remind him of that as well.)

"I...I'm sorry." The words tasted bitter and burned his tongue, and the Corellian Ryshcate was liable to suffer a similar fate if they didn't get a move on.

"Come on," Poe said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek as he strode past him and into the kitchen, "let's save these pastries."


End file.
